


Here With Me Now

by QueenWithNoCrown



Category: Narcos (TV)
Genre: F/M, Gentle Sex, Jealousy, Kissing, One Night Stands, One Shot, Oral Sex, Reader-Insert, Rough Sex, Smut, Spicy, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-18
Updated: 2021-02-17
Packaged: 2021-03-13 11:08:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,862
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29525511
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenWithNoCrown/pseuds/QueenWithNoCrown
Summary: You’re a new employee at the U.S. Embassy in Colombia in the late 1980s, and your initial optimism has been crushed by a mountain of paperwork. In a new country with only your coworkers to stand in as friends, you feel lonely and out of place. One agent in particular shows you some kindness, and you can’t deny that Agent Peña looks hot as fuck in his tight jeans and yellow aviators. A particularly late night 3 months into your assignment ends up with you in Javi’s bed. Despite initial reservations about his reputation, his skills make up for your doubts.The sensation is perfect, and you can’t help but say it again, his name sounding so natural in your mouth.“Javi…Javi…”He grunts, keeping his slow lascivious pace. It feels like you’re both floating, not on a bed in an apartment in Bogotá, but on a cloud somewhere in the sky above you, floating along in the Colombian night.
Relationships: Javier Peña/Reader, Javier Peña/You, Steve Murphy & Javier Peña
Comments: 2
Kudos: 10





	Here With Me Now

**Author's Note:**

> I am a new author to AO3. This is my first published work ever, anywhere. If you are a Spanish speaker/Colombian, please forgive me for my extremely basic knowledge of Spanish and Colombian culture, I tried my best! I think I have a second installment coming for this story, including some angry/jealous Peña, with more smut, of course. I had a lot of fun writing this, and I hope someone may enjoy reading about a certain handsome DEA agent.

You wish you could go back to the moment you stepped out of the Bogotá airport, the hot sun shining down and filling you with excitement and promise. Now, there is just an impatient stack of manila folders sitting on the desk, growing higher by the day. No matter how furiously you type, there always seems to be more, like a tap pouring into a tub with no overflow drain. Soon, it must spill over the side. The never-ending reports that have to be compiled and then filed, combined with the task of translating and distributing intelligence reports, is simply too much for one person.

Giving yourself a moment’s break, you rest your head on your hand, and look across the lobby to another desk clump. Javier Peña sat there, a cigarette perfectly balanced in his fingers, reading from a similar manila folder. His back is slightly turned to you, so you indulge a little more and stare at him. A small sigh escapes your lips, as you admire his broad shoulders, and the casual way he seems to sit, so comfortable. As for yourself, you couldn’t feel comfortable at work, not with Messina breathing down your neck to handle the inhuman amount of admin duties you’ve been assigned. You glance at his desk, and see his yellow-tinted aviators sitting there; you smirk the corner of your lips up just slightly, remembering the first time you saw him wear those.

It had been after your first week on the job, when you had still been full of hope. You had invited some of your coworkers to your apartment on a Friday night, with the promise of a case of American beer and CDs you had brought with you from the States.

“I have New Kids on the Block”, you said, trying to entice them.

“Who the fuck is that?” Steve Murphy jabbed back. “I’m more interested in the beer, anyways. I’ll be there,” he said with a friendly wink.

“Great! Can Connie come?” you asked in return. You were eager to meet another American woman here. Making friends is hard.

“I’ll ask her later. She probably will.”

You turned your attention to Javier, with an expectant smile. He was leaning against his desk, his weight on one leg, and his arms crossed over his chest. He looked at her sideways, and you thought you noticed him flick his gaze over your body ever so quickly. He grinned slightly, and sighed, and straightened his back.

“I’ll stop by. You can practice your Spanish on me,” he replied.

That send a jolt of nerves to your stomach, but also excitement. You really did need to practice Spanish, with all the Columbian slang and inflection and accent, if you wanted to fit in at all here. You nodded with a big smile, and turned quickly to continue around the room inviting other guests.

Later, around 8 pm, some people started to come. There were a few other admin workers, and the small talk was throwaway comments about your apartment, your appearance, your new job. Since most of the Embassy staff was living in housing on the same block surrounding it, convincing folks to come hadn’t been too hard. Steve showed up with Connie soon after, and the blonde woman was so friendly and excited for you and your new job.

“Did you request to come to Columbia? Because that’s what Steve did,” Connie had asked.

“Oh, I put in for a transfer, but they didn’t let me choose the destination. It was quite a surprise for me, but I accepted it because it seemed like such an adventure!” you replied excitedly. You both laughed.

“Columbia is an adventure, for sure. I’m glad that you’re just working in the Embassy, though. Field work is so stressful and frankly, dangerous,” Connie continued, in a lower tone. “Steve is great, and Javi is a great partner, but I’m still afraid every day.”

You paused for a moment, considering your response. “I have only heard about how dangerous Columbia is. I think I accepted the risk for myself, it must be harder to do that for someone else.” Connie nodded at that, and you two had some understanding.

You looked around the room, and saw that Javier was still not there. Instead of waiting, you stood and addressed the room of about 12 people.

“Hey everyone, beer and wine in the fridge! And I’m putting the music on now. Thanks for coming!” Walking to the big stereo, you popped in the disk, and let it play as everyone kept chatting in the living room.

The album had almost played through when Javier arrived. He was wearing some tight jeans, a short-sleeved button-up, and those yellow sunglasses, still on his eyes as he closed the door behind him. Despite having seen him just hours before, seeing him in your home was a new thrill. His clothes fit him so well, too. They were well worn, and showed off his strong body in a way that felt almost scandalous to you. But you were the only one to notice this, as this was how he always dressed. He approached Steve and Connie, greeting them briefly, before casting his gaze around and finding you in the kitchen. He walked over, his head slightly bowed.

“Hey,” he greeted simply.

“Hey, glad you made it,” you replied, almost breathless. Only after the greeting did he finally remove the sunglasses, tucking them into the neck of his shirt. Your eyes followed his hand, and you saw a small chest hair just above the first button. His neck, chest, and whole face was tanned by the sun, and his complexion was complimented by his dark brown hair, a curly mess on his head, and a dark thin mustache on his upper lip.

“So, can I get a drink?” he prompted, jump-starting your nervous system.

“Yes! Of course!” You reached for the fridge handle, and bent at the waist to look inside. “I have Coors, Modelo, and Aguila, and also some wine I found at the grocer,” you giggled a little at your lack of knowledge. You already knew that this was more of a beer crowd, and they wouldn’t appreciate any snobbery about wines.

“I’ll take Modelo, thanks,” he said, and you handed him the bottle. He popped the cap off with the opener attached to the wall of the kitchen, and raised the drink to his lips. Oh god, his lips. You watched, forgetting to be subtle, as he lowered the bottle again. He nodded a thanks, and looked around.

“These government-assigned apartments aren’t too bad, huh?” you started, knowing that he lived in the building just next door on the lower level.

“For Columbia, they’re about the middle of the pack,” he replied. “I like it just fine. You have settled in pretty quick.”

It was a simple apartment, with just a living room, kitchen, one full bathroom, and one bedroom. It was spacious enough, but starting to feel cramped with this many people. The apartment had come furnished, so there wasn’t much moving in to do, but you had added some personal touches. The curtains were new, a fun pattern; the throw pillows on the couch, and a wicker chair, had been your additions. A few plants had also been established by the window. A tiny American flag stuck out of a pot on a side table.

You chatted about the apartment, but soon more people came into the kitchen, and your job of distributing drinks became paramount. You had spent the rest of the evening talking to others in groups, listening to stories from the office or the field. A lot of stories about the _narcos_ and their misdeeds, some political discussions about Columbia and the U.S., and personal adventures in Colombia. After a few drinks, everyone was oversharing quite a bit, and some people started to gossip about the other agents. You sat at one end of your couch, listening in, when the conversation turned to Agent Peña. You glanced around quickly, seeing him in the kitchen talking to Connie. You turned back to the group, leaning in, wanting to know more about the handsome veteran agent.

“I heard Messina had to rip him a new one for paying off a whore with Embassy funds,” someone said, a black-haired man with glasses.

“I believe it,” another said, a blonde man in his fifties. “They send him in whenever they need intel from the brothels where the sicarios hang out.” The group chuckled and the blonde man looked at you. “Keep an eye out for that one, he’ll try to talk you out of your panties, missy.”

Your eyes widened in shock and embarrassment at the man’s words. “I am capable of handling myself around a man like that, thanks very much,” you huffed, mortified that he would bring it up so boldly.

“Ah, she’s fine Howie, leave the woman alone,” said a woman standing to your left. As you looked up to thank her for her defense, you saw that Javi was standing by the window just a few feet behind you now, not where you thought he was in the kitchen. You hoped that he hadn’t heard the conversation, and really hoped he didn’t hear your offended comment. It had just been a defense reaction, and not how you really felt. He didn’t give any indication, and the conversation moved towards talking shit about the various criminals of Colombia.

It turned out that they all needed a night of relaxation, as no one even thought of leaving till near 2 am. You had regretted that a bit, as an early morning for work left you raggedly tired by the time everyone was gone, and the energy of socializing had worn off. You had half-attempted to clean up the cans, cups, and bottles, but gave up and fell asleep in your clothes.

The next Monday morning, a few people thanked you again for the party, and you felt it had been a success. Your only regret was not getting to talk to Javi more. You hadn’t practiced your Spanish, as he had suggested.

The daydream is interrupted when Agent Feistl approaches your desk from around the corner, slapping another manila folder on your pile. He gives you an apologetic look, and walks away. You can’t help but roll your eyes. You look to the Columbian woman sitting next to you, also working on files, trying to get some sympathy, but she ignores you, and you notice that her pile is significantly smaller. What a pain in the ass. You force yourself to look away from Javi and start pounding at your keyboard again.

The hours pass slowly, and your work is occasionally interrupted by someone asking you to make more coffee, which inevitably meant you had to fill everyone’s cup as they called out for refills, taking another 15 minutes out of your day. To your dismay, when you return from the break room with the pot, you see Agent Murphy and Agent Peña quickly gathering their jackets and guns from their drawers.

“Heading out, guys?” you ask rhetorically as they whirl past you.

“New location lead on a sicario, chica,” Javi replies, while Steve says nothing. They both keep walking out of the room, and you call behind them.

“Good luck!” You turn to continue with the coffee, happy that Javi even bothered to answer you, but also worried about the both of them. A lot of leads went cold, but if they didn’t, there was almost inevitably a shoot-out. And agents died a lot in the line of duty; you briefly think of Javi’s previous partner, gunned down in a parking garage, his life snuffed in a fraction of a second. You had read the report. It sends a rock to the bottom of your stomach. But you push on, knowing there was nothing you could do, only continue your own work.

They don’t return for the rest of the day. At 5:00, workers start leaving, and you say goodnight to the them as they pass you. The Columbian woman to your left gets ready to leave, and sees your files. She stops in front of your desk.

“It’s tough to be new,” she starts. You look up, surprised, as she didn’t speak often. “Messina likes to dump a lot of work on new employees, to weed out the lazy ones, you know.” Then she walked away.

Well, it didn’t sound like sympathy, but at least you had an explanation for the backlog, and it wasn’t because you are incompetent. It gives you some motivation, and you grab another coffee before doubling down. Soon, the big room is empty except for you, and some workers in their private offices. You feel your stomach growl, but you push on, determined to have something to show to the boss tomorrow. You have no one waiting on you at home, after all, and no where to be.

The big clock on the wall reads 9:00 before you waver in your determination. You had been working for over 12 hours, and the letters were beginning to swim on the page. You found yourself read the same sentence once, twice, three times before the information got through. Typing was agonizingly slow, and the dim lighting didn’t help. You even heard the cleaning crew come in, starting on the hallway. Just when you were about to throw in the towel, you heard someone bustle into the room on your right. You look over on instinct and to the surprise of both of you, lock eyes with Javi rushing in towards his desk.

“I left my wallet in such a hurry earlier,” Javi explained, reaching down to roll open the drawer of his desk and grabbing an item out, sliding into his back pocket. “Damn, you’re here late. What’s up?” He approached your desk, coming around to the left, and half-sitting on the edge, facing you.

“I…I’m still working,” you answer stupidly, vaguely gesturing to the mess in front of you.

He raises an eyebrow, and doesn’t move to leave. Unsure, you continue. “I have so much to do, I just decided to work late to try to get ahead of it.”

“You’ve been working hard all week. I’ve seen you over here, typing away. How do you still have more?”

“Well…” You thought about your coworker’s words. “Martina said that the boss gives extra work to the new folks, you know, to test them out. I want to make a good impression, so…” You trail off, hoping he catches the meaning.

He continues to look at you. You are a bit flustered by his proximity, even though he’s at a normal conversational distance.

“You’ve been doing a great job. The reports have never been in order around here,” he says, shifting his weight and looking away. “She’s probably having you work on the backlog. It’s not really that pressing. You can go home tonight.”

“I get that, but I still really want to impress her, I guess.”

“That’s impossible.” Javi smiles at you, a rare sight, and it fills you with happiness where before there had only been a ball of stress.

“She’s that much of a tightwad, huh?” you joke in a low voice, returning his smile. That got a chuckle from him.

“Is anything else worrying you? You’re still new to the country,” Javi asks. It’s true, you are just three months into the new post.

“Navigating around has been easier than I expected,” you answer. “I can get by with shopping and stuff, I have enough basic understanding for that. Driving is a hell of an adventure though. Columbia is like, the hilliest place I’ve ever been.”

“Yeah, that’s an adjustment for sure. Especially for fresh _gringas_ like you,” he gives you a little wink, and you laugh, hiding the blush that is spreading over your cheeks.

“But really, it’s been hard to fit in here,” you continue, the feeling of intimacy and friendship from just this little conversation prompting you to open up. “Everyone’s nice enough, but I really don’t feel comfortable yet. I thought I would be by now.”

“Hey, you’re brand new, _chica_ , don’t go putting that much pressure on yourself. Colombians are skeptical of gringos, and the Embassy staff are all stiffs or too busy with work to do anything else. It’s not you.”

“Ok, thanks, I guess, but I worked really hard to get here. I studied Spanish for 6 months, you know.”

“I know, you told us all about it when you started,” Javi says. “You were the most eager new transfer I’ve ever seen.”

“And it’s not that I miss home that much, I just wish…”

“Hmm?”

“I wish this pile of paperwork would just disappear!” you cover, letting your exasperation show again.

“Ok, ok,” he gestures to your current file. “How long for you to finish this one up?”

“Uh, maybe 30 minutes?” you guess, hedging a little.

“How about you take 30 minutes, finish this up, and then come over to my place? Then you can talk my ear off about Messina. Ok?”

You take just a second to consider, but the offer seems too generous to turn down. “Yeah, sure, that sounds fine. I don’t think I could do any more anyways.”

“Great. I’ll see you in 30, then,” he says, removing himself from your desk. He nods once, then walks out, and you watch him go, a little swagger in his stride.

When he’s gone, the weight of the invitation hits you. If you’re going to his apartment, you absolutely have to change your clothes. And brush your hair. That leaves only 20 minutes for the report. You start typing furiously again, flipping the pages quickly, the adrenaline fueling you much better than the caffeine. It’s done in record time, and you grab your purse and leave your chair in a whirlwind.

Your apartment is close, so there’s almost no travel time to walk to it. You throw the shingled closet doors open, grabbing for your favorite outfit. You find some jeans and a rose-colored blouse, with a bit of a low neckline. Perfect. After dressing, you look in the vanity quickly, pulling your hair down from its clip, and brushing it out with your fingers. No time for makeup, but a quick smack of lipstick, and you’re out the door again. Javi’s building is next door, and you make sure to slow and catch your breath before you reach his apartment number.

You hesitate for just a second before softly knocking your knuckles against Javi’s door. Staring at your shoes, you wait for him to answer. In a few seconds, he opens it, and you raise your head to meet his gaze.

“Come in,” he invites. He paused for one second, looking at your clothes. “You changed.”

“Yeah…” you respond, crossing the threshold, as he shuts the door behind you. “The work uniform is so stuffy, I couldn’t wear it any longer.”

“How did the report go?”

“I finished it up pretty quickly after you left.” You stand awkwardly just inside the door. It’s nice to see the inside of his apartment. It’s furnished just as yours had been, but he had not added much personality to his. The first thing you notice is the smell. It’s a smoky, deep, masculine scent that permeates the whole space. The lighting is low as well, just a single lamp on the table and the light from the streetlights filtering in through the windows.

“I, uh, got some food, I thought you might be hungry,” he says, gesturing to the coffee table.

“Oh, yeah I am pretty hungry, thanks,” you reply, walking over and sitting on the couch. You take an arepa.

“Would you like a drink?” he asks.

“Hell yeah,” you reply, mouth half full. You are touched by his hospitality, recognizing that a 40-something bachelor DEA agent probably does not host his coworkers like this often. “Thanks for having me over. And thanks for talking to me. I really appreciate it.”

“No problem, _chica_ ,” he smiles at you from the kitchen. “I hope you like _guaro_.”

From your perch on the couch, you survey the rest of the living room. He has a stereo system in the opposite corner, kind of dated, but you secretly hope that he listens to music when he’s here by himself. But maybe he doesn’t spend that much time at home.

Javi returns from the kitchen with two drinks in his hands. He sets one down in front of you, and sits a respectful distance away on the old couch.

“ _Lo intentas_ ,” he said, raising his own glass. You did the same, and drank his cocktail.

“It’s delicious!” you say, locking eyes with him again. God, his gaze was so enchanting. He had a strong brow and hooded eyes, making his gaze look deep and brooding.

“Thanks,” he took another sip. “Is there anything else you want to talk about?”

That was a loaded question. Anything? How about that fact that you’d been daydreaming about him since the first week you arrived in Colombia? That despite the rumors of his association with prostitutes and sleeping with informants, that you still want him? And it doesn’t help that you have no one to share these thoughts with, no close friends in this country where you are an alien.

He doesn’t pressure you, but allows you both to sit in silence. Now it feels even more awkward, and you search for a topic or a joke to latch onto. You find nothing but the stereo, so you stand and walk the long way around the coffee table to turn it to the radio. He watches silently from the couch, just the ice cubes clinking in the glass. The first station it lands on is some Columbian host talking, so you set the switch to scan and it starts to run through the wavelengths. Facing away from him gives you a second to think about your next move. As the radio scans, you debate with yourself, as you have not yet decided what your intentions are tonight by coming to his apartment. The pretense was to talk about work more, but it doesn’t seem right to do that here. You are eating and drinking. The clock readout on the stereo says 9:42. That’s a bit late for a casual after-work chat. And even though he had said nothing suggestive at all, you suspect he is looking at you from behind your back. 

Soon the radio lands on a station playing bolero music, a slow latin beat that you had come to love in the past few months. You set the station and turn again, and Javi looks at you from the couch. You start to move back around, but then he sets down his glass and stands, walking over to you. He gets quite close quite suddenly, and the alarm bells in your head all go off at once. Your eyes widen as he takes your glass and sets it down too, and then steps even closer to—wrap his right arm under your left, spreading his hand over your ribcage. Your breath nearly hitches in your chest, when you realize—he is trying to dance with you. You try to calm your beating heart, looking up at him from this close angle. He is several inches taller than you, and looks back down, with a playful look in his eye. Here you can smell him intensely, and it’s more intoxicating than the alcohol. His cologne, mixed with his natural scent, and a little sweat from the day, all combining to make a heady concoction that went straight to your core. You could feel your body respond to his closeness, whether you had made a decision yet or not.

He starts to sway, and your brain registers the sound of the music again. You do your best to remain casual, and sway with him, slowly stepping your feet as he did. He pulled you in closer now, your chests almost touching. Still holding your gaze, he opens his mouth to say something, but the song ends, and before the next one starts, you take the chance to escape.

“I would like another drink!” you blurt out, hurried and a bit louder than intended. He shut his mouth again and nodded, pulling away. You walk back to the couch, wondering if it was a mistake to cut it short. The dancing had been wonderful, but you felt like your brain was melting with anxiety, desire, and stress. The second drink had been an out, but perhaps it will calm the nerves you are struggling to contain. He returned soon with the glass refilled, handing it to you this time. And he returned to his spot on the right on the couch, noticeably closer this time.

“I guess you weren’t just being polite,” he says, as you practically gulp down the liquid. “It’s a nice song, isn’t it?”

You nodded, drinking to avoid having to say anything. But soon the drink is gone, and you set the glass down on the table. You lean back into the couch, staring straight forward, and Javi takes that as a sign apparently, because suddenly, his arm is around you.

Despite the physical contact just moments before, this alights a new fire in your belly, and with the drink quickly taking effect, you doubt that there is much of a decision left to make. You lean into him, allowing his arm to reach your opposite shoulder. He grips your arm there, slowly squeezing, and you turn your head to rest it against his pectoral. A few minutes pass like this, feeling like the room is filled with electricity, your muscles relaxing yet tense all at once. You consider closing your eyes, but just before that, you feel his other hand on your chin. You raise your head, following his guide, until your face is just inches from his. When you don’t pull away, Javi takes the chance, leans forward the slightest bit, and plants his beautiful lips on yours.

The decision is gone in the wind, like all your thoughts about a stressful work day. Your hand comes to rest on his chest as you rise to meet his kiss. His mustache—you had always wondered what it would feel like to kiss him with that mustache—prickled your lips, but did not distract. You breathe heavy through your nose, and he does the same. He tastes like cigarettes and liquor, but you don’t mind. The arm that had been around your shoulders dipped to your back, pressing you even closer to him. After a few moments, you broke away, looking at him again, your eyes betraying your intent.

“I thought you couldn’t be with guys like me,” Javi says in a low voice. It sounded almost pleading, or apologetic, disguised as a joke, as if he felt he was betraying something.

“It doesn’t matter how many women you’ve been with,” you say, half whispering, breathless. “You’re here with me now.”

He kisses you again, releasing your chin and gliding his hand over your back. You break and look down at his shirt, a pale striped button-down, and place a finger on the top button.

“I like your shirt,” you say, tracing down the seam with your finger. Emboldened by the alcohol, you make your next bold move. “Take it off.”

He doesn’t move for a second, perhaps surprised by your sudden boldness after being so reserved before. Then he slowly removes his hands from your body, and you lean away slightly. Giving you a quizzical look, he reaches for the top button.

“As you wish, _chica_.”

He looks at you as he undoes the buttons, one by one. His chest comes into view, and it’s just how you imagined it, even better. When he reaches his waistline, he pulls the shirt out from where it’s tucked into his jeans. Then he leans forward, and you watch rapturously as he pulls the garment from his arms. The floodgates have opened now—you feel your panties grow wet as you look at him. He leans back against the couch, casual as ever, and looks at you again. His chest hair is dark like the rest of it, and curly. He is strong and his arms are thick with muscle. He is not shredded, but his strong wide shoulders taper to a trim waist, his stomach holding just a bit of padding. His hips form a delicious V at the top of his pants.

Realizing the next move is yours, you reach to remove your own shirt, but feel his hands cover yours and help you remove it. Your bra is unclasped in almost the same movement, slipping down over your arms with the shirt. You feel the air, not because it was cool—it was actually feeling warmer by the minute in the apartment—but from being exposed.

Now it’s Javi’s turn to stare. His eyes lock onto your breasts and immediately his hands are cupping them, softly squeezing, and gently pinching your nipples. Your head wants to roll back, but you also want to watch what he’s doing. You let out a small gasp when he kisses your right breast, then feel his warm mouth close around your nipple. He pulls away again, looking up.

“Is it alright?”

“Hhhh-yes,” you reply in a huff, and his mouth returns. His hands are traveling, running over every bit of exposed skin, then gripping and squeezing your thighs where they rest on the couch. Your head does fall back now, your hair falling away from your face. Then, he grabs strongly behind your lower back, and stands, taking you with him. You involuntarily make a little noise in startle at the standing, but he’s already walking down the short hallway to the bedroom, his face still buried in your breast.

Upon reaching the bedroom, he flops you down on your back, the frame rattling. He looks down at you nearly grinning, and pacing like a lion. You stare back at him, legs askew on the mattress.

“ _Que te hare_?” Javi asks, placing one knee on the mattress at the foot of the bed.

“Whatever you want, Javi,” you respond, desperate for him to touch you again. You prop yourself up on your elbows as he crawls toward you, the sight making your mouth water. When he is above you, he grabs the front of your pants and unfastens them, roughly yanking them down over your hips with your panties.

“Oh!” you cry, as you are suddenly completely naked on Javier Peña’s bed.

He laughs, grabbing your knees, and pushing your legs apart, kneeling over you and staring at your exposed cunt. You could feel it wetting the blanket below, felt the heat and the sensitivity that he was causing, just by looking at it. He stares with intensity, drinking in the sight.

“ _Dios mio_ ,” Javi said, “you’re so wet, it’s dripping.”

And suddenly his head is between your thighs, his hair tickling, and he holds no reserve as he drags a flat tongue from your perineum to the crest of your cunt, covering the whole crease. It’s like an electric shock to your nervous system, arching your back and flexing your hands. A long “Ohhh,” escapes your lips, as his tongue returns to your pussy, dragging it slowly again, now focusing on your entrance, lapping up the arousal as it pours out of you. He makes a low growl at the taste, and looks up at you as he licks it, his mustache brushing your labia, and then moves his tongue to your clit.

At that, your legs rise up into the air, spreading open farther in reaction to his attention to the most sensitive part of your body. You look away to the ceiling, pleasure rippling through you, and you feel a presence at your entrance—and he slides a finger in. You’re so wet, there’s hardly any resistance at all.

“Oh, my—Javi!” you cry as he slides another finger in.

He seems to like you saying his name, as he gives a little grunt and starts moving his fingers in a rhythm, continuing to lick your clit. Your eyes roll back, your head falling back on the mattress, in absolute heaven. He knows exactly how to touch you, with no guidance; maybe there are more benefits to sleeping with a ladies’ man than you had previously thought. You’re not sure how long you’ll last like this, with him looking so delicious between your thighs, giving your cunt all his attention.

He quickens his pace, and you feel a tightness begin to curl in your core, the start of the rise to the peak. Your breathing increases, and he notices, for he locks in with his motion, keeping it steady. The sounds reaching your ears, seemingly through a cloud or a filter, are lewd, wet licking noises. You open your legs even wider, starting to moan with each breath, ready to say his name again—and he pulls away.

You make a noise of discontent as he withdraws his fingers.

“Relax, _chica_. Let me take care of you.”

You rise to sit on the bed, and then reach for him, wanting him to be as naked as you. He lets you trace your hands over his chest, feeling his pectorals and stomach, and then grabbing onto his belt, you take it off quickly, eager to continue.

“Hey, relax, relax. You’re eager for my dick, huh?” He leans forward, putting his mouth near your ear. His hands take over undoing his pants. “Do you want me to fuck you? Would that help you…chill out?”

A shiver shoots down your spine. You’re not sure it will help you chill out, or perhaps kill you. When he pulls away, you see he has freed his cock from the front of his pants. It’s like the rest of the room falls away from your field of view. The happy trail leading from his abdomen ends in a tuft of even darker, curlier hair, trimmed close to his skin. And his dick is rock hard, arching up towards his stomach, a shaft of uncircumcised glory. It’s bigger than you expected, because of course you had daydreamed about it many times—but wider rather than longer, a strong pillar of lust.

You reach for it right away, gently sliding your palm along the underside. He pulls away briefly to remove his pants all the way, the kneeling on the bed again. You meet his eyes as you reach again, mouth hanging open, not even sure how to compliment him.

“ _Es…hermoso_ ,” you say, touching it again with your palm. A string of precum trails from the tip.

He smirks, and you’re unsure if it was the correct word, but right now, you don’t care. Your pussy floods anew, and you can actually feel it drip down to your thigh. He steps away for a moment to reach into the bedside table drawer, where he removes a single condom. You watch, practically drooling, as he opens the packet and applies it, slowly rolling the latex down his cock.

Now he moves toward you, pushing you to your back again on the mattress. He hovers over you, supporting himself with his arms. His eyes skate your body again, hungrily, seeing your flushed face, your breasts, your waist and hips, and your legs spread open for him. He settles onto his elbow, face-to-face with you, and you just watch and wait for him to do it. He snakes his other hand down to his groin and uses it to guide his cock against your entrance, sliding the tip up and down, wetting it on you. He grazes it over your lips and clit, making you moan again, and then he slides the whole length against your crease, moving his hips with it. It’s more than you can take, the hotness of it, seeing his tanned body glide against yours. He settles in now, putting his tip at your entrance, and slowly pushes in.

There’s plenty of lubrication, but the pressure is intense as he eases his way in. You feel the ring of muscles expand to accommodate his cock, feeling tight in the most wonderful way. There’s a slight sting but it is forgotten when he pulls out, and starts to move his hips again.

His movement is fluid, rolling forward and driving it home, settling into a slow rhythm. With each stroke, a moan leaves your lips, and you reach a hand to the back of his neck to feel him even closer. It’s hot in the room, and sweat soon gleams off both your bodies in the dim light. The sensation is perfect, and you can’t help but say it again, his name sounding so natural in your mouth.

“Javi…Javi…”

He grunts, keeping his slow lascivious pace. It feels like you’re both floating, not on a bed in an apartment in Bogotá, but on a cloud somewhere in the sky above you, floating along in the Colombian night.

You must stay like that for a while, as your mind forgets every other thing in the world. You’re not sure you could even tell someone the year anymore by the time he shifts positions. He pushes himself up on his hands again, pulling out of you. He gently grabs your upper arms and guiding you into the next position. He kneels on both knees, pulling you forward and up onto his lap. Your feet find the bed behind him, and he places your arms on his shoulders. In this upright position, you are both free to move your pelvises, and you rock down onto his cock again, rolling in a pattern that felt the best. He ruts up to meet you, and your moans grow a bit louder. He starts making deep sounds in his throat, which begin to be more vocal, a groan that came unevenly. You hold on tight to his broad shoulders, stabilizing yourself with them.

You feel a warm hand spread out across your belly. His palm is splayed there, and then his thumb dips into the front of your crease, his arm moving with your body’s up-and-down. The returned presence shoots you back to where you had been with his tongue there. It’s so sensitive and swollen, the touch is almost too much. It drives you upward quickly, a whine coming out now, gripping his shoulders with your fingers. You feel it building, rapidly bubbling and boiling over—

“Javi, oh god don’t stop, I’m g—” but you don’t continue, your vision filled with white-hot ecstasy, and your whine turns into a strangled yell as the orgasm seizes you. You stop thrusting as he keeps moving his thumb and hips, your cunt pulsing on him as he carries you through it.

When you start the come-down, he is already flipping you around and wrapping one arm around your chest, the other around your hip. You are both still on your knees as he enters your sore pussy from behind, rocking into you again, faster and rougher now, and his moaning is getting louder. You keep moaning with him, still relishing the friction inside. He tightens his grip, almost constricting you, as he reaches that peak himself, his hips slowing and giving a few final starts forward. As he empties himself in you, he drops his head forward and pressed his lips to your neck and shoulder.

After a moment, he releases you, and you ease yourself to the mattress. He lays himself down beside you, only for a moment, before getting up, disposing of the condom, and retrieving a towel from the closet. He offers it to you, which you accept gratefully for the sweat and cum. He wipes himself after, and then pulls a pack of cigarettes out of the bedside drawer. He offers you one wordlessly.

“No, thanks,” you refuse, never having developed the habit. He sits on the side of the bed and lights up. You think smoking in bed is kind of a bad idea, but it wasn’t the riskiest thing you’d done that night. And now, after the passion has waned, it feels awkward in the room. You aren’t sure exactly what to say. Thank him, for making you cum your brains out? Or talk about something unrelated?

You choose to say nothing, lying back down again. He is turned away, his smooth back facing you. The smoke swirls around his head, and you wave it away from your face. The quiet stretches out, unmeasured, and you feel the awkwardness fade. You just absorb the moment, feeling satisfied.

He puts out the cigarette and lays down beside you, sighing.

“Are you relaxed?” he asks.

“Yeah,” you say with a small giggle. You reach over across his chest and plant a kiss on his cheek. He lets you cuddle up to him, and you fall asleep next to him.


End file.
